


All About Eggs

by WeirdChick333



Category: Alex Turner - Fandom, Last Shadow Puppets, Miles Kane - Fandom, Milex - Fandom
Genre: Idiots in Love, Idiots in lust, M/M, Sex Toys, alex in a sex shop, horny puppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdChick333/pseuds/WeirdChick333
Summary: It's Miles' birthday and at his party, he and Alex discover a strange gift that one of his mates has made him.Eggs. Six white eggs in a clear container, to be precise. At least, that's what he and Alex think. Naturally, they are intrigued. Miles googles the eggs. Alex, as always eager to know everything, wants to find out more, too. But, suddenly, Miles is making a big effort to keep the eggs to himself. To the point of not even allowing Alex to look at them!Alex makes it his mission to figure out the curious case of the eggs. And Miles? He enjoys an egg. And an egg. And an egg...
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner, Milex
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	All About Eggs

**All About Eggs**

#Miles

Miles jerked on the fabric of his button-up shirt, trying desperately to coax some cooling air into it. The heat was brutal, getting worse by the minute. For a day in March, it sure as fuck was hot tonight. He cast a bothered look around the club. Had the owner turned the fucking heater on? Maybe it was too crowded and the large gathering of musicians and unique characters caused the searing temperatures? There had to be some reason for this madness! Wiping his damp forehead, he blew out a steaming breath.

Alex, next to him, snorted a laugh. “You alright?”

He gave an inconclusive shrug, unable to do better.

“Getting heatwaves, eh? Thirty for a day and already you’re changing into an old lady. Swear, before our tour is done, ‘m gonna have to wheel you onto the stage.”

Instead of wheels, he’d prefer an ice pack. Miles rolled his eyes. Eyes that soon landed on Alex, brows arching high with suspicion. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“‘scuse me?”

“You’re makin’ me hot and bothered!”

Garrulous laughter burst from Alex, the sort that made his body shake and thereby move even closer. “In a good way, I hope!”

“No, in the worst way! You’re standing there, mashing your arm against mine like some heating pad I’m cursed with. Can feel that thing bloody everywhere. From shoulder to hand! It’s scorching me! Are you having a fever?” Miles stared at him, scrutinized his face, his expression. It had to be Alex. Nobody else was in the vicinity. And all the other guests seemed perfectly fine! Touching a hand to his friend’s forehead, Miles checked. Examined. 

Alex swatted it away, glaring. “I‘m not having a fucking fever, you freak! How much did you drink? I barely left your side all night. Did you sneak in tequila shots when I wasn’t looking?” It was his turn to assess Miles’ eyes. “You don’t look shit-faced. You look weird-faced.”

Miles sighed heavily, shoulders heaving with exasperation. “Maybe I am getting old. It is my birthday. Thirty.” What a strikingly high number. Hadn’t he just celebrated his twentieth? Where had all that time gone? “Before long, I’ll be forty. Then fifty. And then I’m Jagger, shaggy-haired and ruining my rep by sharing stages with Justin Timberlake!”

“Don’t plan your funeral just yet,” grinned Alex, removing his arm from Miles’ side, only to sling it around his shoulders and haul him in.

As their temples touched, Miles swallowed a groan, praying for a bucket of ice cubes.

“Come on, ol’ man. Let's check out some of your gifts. Curious what the others got you.”

“I wanna know what you got me!” He jostled for space, eyes seeking out Alex's face. “Doing this album and planning the tour, like, we were busy, lately. No time for major shopping sprees. Is it a gift certificate? I told you last Christmas, Amazon ain’t doing it for me! All about—”

“Physical relaxation and peace of mind,” droned Alex, drawling the words Miles had flung at him at the sight of his lackluster Christmas gift. “Yes, I got it. Surprised you haven’t checked yet. I got you a nice spa trip. There! Happy? I listened!” His words were needlelike, scraping on petulant. His face turned peevish as they made their way to the back of the club, on the far side of the bar. “You should be happy I got you that Amazon card for Christmas! You told me got yourself a new vacuum cleaner from it. It was useful, then!”

“Yes,” Miles deadpanned, “‘cause everybody loves household gifts for Christmas. What’s it gonna be next year? A steam-cleaner? A toaster?” They reached the table where everyone had placed their gifts. “Spa trip, huh? Gonna join me?” Miles gave Alex's shoulder a squeeze. “You and I, sharing a nice mud bath. There’s a thought!”

Alex waved his hands with verve, laughing at the idea. “Go mud yourself. Ain’t setting a foot near such a place. All that cucumber and massage shit. That‘s not for me.” His attention jumped to the rainbow-colored assortment of boxes and bags.

Miles, meanwhile, imagined a mud bath. Warm, soggy mud. Gentle, meditating sounds. No phones, no people. Just resting and enjoying. He’d have a tall cup of tea, let his mind wander, or do no such thing and simply drowse and dream. He sighed, wishing he’d be there now.

“…eggs.”

The fantasy popped like a balloon. “What would I need eggs for? Like, for Christmas?” Who gifted eggs? He made a face, confused. “You show up with eggs for Christmas, they better be painted and signed by you so I can sell ‘em!”

“Not—” Alex slapped his arm, then dabbed a gift-bag he’d peeked into. “In there, Mi. Eggs! See for yourself!”

He did. Leaning over Alex’s shoulder, he poked the bag’s top and it gaped open, revealing its unique content. “Eggs.”

“Duh!”

No shit! Six white eggs in a clear container. Eyes narrowing, he read the accompanying card. The gift was from one of his friends. ‘ _Happiest Birthday, mate,’_ it said. ‘ _Sucks to know you’re single on your big day. A woman didn’t fit into this bag, so have an egg instead. Enjoy!’_

Alex shoved himself up against Miles' side, inadvertently raising his temperature like he was a damned heating rod. Sweat pooled in the small of Miles’, soaking into his shirt. Alex’s grabby fingers went for the gift. “What’s it say? Are the eggs cooked? Are they regular eggs? They look bigger than your usual chicken egg. Gimme the bag!”

“Hands off!” It came out harsh, and he was on the verge of apologizing. But Alex kept going and Miles kept sweating.

“Let me see!”

“My gift!”

“Yo, Miles,” called Matt Helders from the distance. “Come back here, time for cake!”

Miles put the bag back. He’d check later.

Alex couldn’t let go. “Wanna—”

“Not now!” Miles lugged him away, pulling on his hand, fingers falling into a casual entwine. “With me. Those are my eggs. You’re not even into eggs!”

“But…” whined Alex, eyes staying with the strange gift, “wanna kno-o-o-ooow! There’re six white eggs in a bag. I need another moment with ‘em. There has to be a reason for this gift. Some explanation. Maybe it’s a riddle! Or a game! Those eggs are the most interesting thing in this entire club!”

“Here’s thinking I was the most interesting thing,” noted Miles with a smirk, teasing him.

Giving up, Alex followed him to the main table. “You are. You know you are.” Fingers fastened around Miles'. “You and your heat tussles.” His forehead furrowed. “Are you sweating? Jeez, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” With a grumble, he wiped his forehead. “Just hot. Maybe it’s the outfit.”

“Oh no, it’s you.” Alex took a seat in Miles’ chair. Before Miles even stood a chance to protest, Alex dragged on his arm, yanking him down and onto his lap. Around his back, his arm roped like a tie, binding him against Alex. And beneath his blazer, Miles' shirt was wet. “Sit on me. Have to hold you. That way, you can’t make off with the cake before I get my slice.”

Miles, feeling himself slipping off those hard thighs of his best friend – thighs that were unfairly defined for somebody who abhorred rigid, physical exercise – adjusted and scooted further up, only to freeze at once.

“Fucking stop moving,” hissed Alex from behind him.

He couldn't. He gave his ass a wiggle to find out for certain. “Are you—”

“Shhhhh! ’s gonna go away. Just sit still. Act cool.”

A sputter of laughter. “That’s gonna be easy, considering I’m bloody melting! Why are you… _hu-hnn-hnn_?!”

Clenching him, keeping him motionless, Alex brought his mouth to Miles’ ear for a heated whisper, “Hu-what now?”

“You know what,” bristled Miles. The table was filling with guests. They’d begun singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him and Miles tried – he really tried – to pay attention, to smile and delight and appear elated. He nodded and clapped, making a serious effort. Nonetheless, against his ass, a stiffening cock poked, and he would bet a good sum of money that drops of sweat were running down his temple.

The singing came to an end. A giant cake with a wrestler was placed in front of Miles and he quickly expressed his gratitude, even gave a little speech to thank everyone, all the while tuning out Alex, who rambled on as though they were the only two people at the table.

“…so big and all that cream. Mmh, jummy!” Alex gave the adorning figure a tap and smiled. “It’s a funny cake!”

“You turned on by it?” jabbed Miles, done with his thank-you’s.

Alex, forever on top of his game and hardly ever succumbing to embarrassment, rendered a warning. “Keep going and I’ll poke you for real. You’re slick enough for it!”

Whipping his head back, gaping at him from over his shoulder, Miles was speechless. _Almost_. “That was—”

“Dirty?” Alex winked. “Learned from the best. Cut your cake. ‘m hungry.”

“You always are.”

As much as he’d made fun of Alex all evening for being so bloody fixated on those odd eggs from earlier, Miles couldn’t deny he was suffering from his own bout of undying interest. Back at the gift table, alone and without witnesses, he quickly spotted the bag and opened it wide. Upon closer inspection, he found that the eggs weren’t plain white but painted with a simple black graphic design. And the container, upon in big letters the word ‘EGG’ was written, also held more information. A tiny printed extra line. Careful not to reveal too much to the people near him, he snuck a look into the bag and squinted.

‘ _Easy Beat EGGs. TENGA.’_

Well. That helped. _Not_. Biting his lip, wondering what this could be, he searched his brain and found the most bizarre ideas. Maybe somebody had gifted him some sort of traveling containers for hard-boiled eggs. Like _Tupperware_.

Or it was one of those funny gadgets from those commercials that always popped up on his Instagram feed. _TENGA_. The name was unfamiliar. Throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder, he pulled out his phone and fired off a Google search.

Videos.

Perfect!

He pressed play. And blushed hard. Mute! Mute! “Mute!” he muttered, frantically killing the sound.

“Unmute,” quipped Alex, as always appearing out of nowhere when Miles needed him the least. “Spill! What’cha watching? What don’t you want anyone to hear?” He tossed his arm around him from behind, unbearably eager for contact tonight. Not that Miles was opposed to physical contact in general. Currently, however, he was suffering under a brutal case of heat-poisoning or something as fucked up like that, and Alex’s proprietary handling of Miles’ body did shit to help. Alex, flush against Miles’ back, fished for Miles’ phone with his free hand. “Show me! You got that guilty look on your face, the _I-just-saw-something-good-_ look! Did you watch porn?” Excitement filled his tone. “At a party?”

Miles shoved his phone back into his pocket. He shoved it in _deep_. “Uh, no.”

His fingers, just like the rest of Alex, knew no boundaries and slid into Miles’ pocket. They skimmed not only over his phone.

“Hand,” shot Miles, glaring over his shoulder, protesting hard. “Off!”

“Are you—” The corners of Alex’s mouth darted up. “ _Were_ you watching porn? Miles! Why would—”

“I did no such thing!” He wrestled out of his hold. Swiveling around, pinning him with a threatening look, he sharpened his words and raised a finger. “I most decidedly did not watch erotic movies!” He’d glimpsed at a mildly pornographic advertisement. That was something entirely different!

Alex held up his arms, taking a meaningful step back. “Oh, we’re using the fancy words tonight. Well, then. Grant me forgiveness for insinuating you did commit such wanton act at a public gathering.” Lips quirked. “Porn-hoe!” With a chuckle, he faced the pile of gifts. “Where are the eggs?”

Leaping towards the table, all but tearing the bag from Alex’s hand, Miles clung to it for dear life. “That’s a private gift. A very pri— personal gift.” It might as well have been the last life-vest the _Titanic_ had to offer. He squeezed the bag against his chest, protecting its secret at all costs. “My eyes only.”

“Eggs, Mi? Are you kidding,” carped Alex, his jaw hitting the floor. “You get territorial over eggs? Seriously, first the sweating, then you barely ate your cake, and now this? It’s only been a few hours, but let me just say, from the looks of it, thirty ain’t your age.” With a huff, Alex cocked his hip and leaned against the table. “Keep your stupid eggs, then.”

“I will!”

And he did. For four more hours, four painfully long, exhaustive hours in which Alex, platonic love of his life that he was, scarcely left his side, Miles kept the small bag with the six dangerous eggs plastered to his body and out of Alex’s forever-prying hands.

At long last, the night came to an end.

The other gifts, he’d have delivered to his apartment. This one, he’d take with him tonight. Waving goodbye at some parting guests, Miles stood by the curb, leaking exhaustion, and flagged down a cab.

Next to him, where else would he be, was Alex. With his chin resting on Miles’ shoulder, he yawned. “Great party. Wanna stay at my place? ’s closer.”

“My apartment is two blocks from your house.”

“Still closer,” Alex insisted, half-asleep already.

“Nah, ’s fine. Need my big bed, not your couch.”

“Got a big bed, too.”

“Are you offering to sleep on the couch and let me have your bed?” Miles was doubtful.

Alex blinked. “Huh? Oh, uh, no. Right.” He wiped his face. “Whatever. Forget it.”

A cab pulled up. “Wanna share?” asked Miles.

“Nah.” Alex detangled from Miles and pulled out his cigarettes. “Need another minute. You go.” He placed his palm against the side of Miles’ face, drew him in, and kissed him. Not big. Not for long. But it was a solid, deft smooch and it stood out because Alex lingered. His mouth veritably lingered.

Until, in a flurry of movements, he let up and scrambled back.

Miles licked his lip. Wiped it, then. Squinted. “What the—” He could have sworn Alex looked just as dazed. If only for a second. For half of it, he might even have blushed. After that, his perfected grin took over, replacing all traces of surprise with confidence.

“A little birthday smooch between friends,” Alex explained away. “Night, Mi.”

“Night,” he replied, slow and definitely out of it. They had pecked each other’s lips before. Often. Sometimes to mock another, sometimes to express a deep-rooted affection. Sometimes, they’d even done it in front of other people, to confound them or to play them for fools.

He could no longer count the times it had happened. But he could say with absolute certainty that none of those little pecks had ever felt as much as a genuine kiss as this one.

Miles slid into the cab, gave a final nod, and closed the door.

What a strange night.

#Alex

What a fucked up night!

Alex scratched his head, stared at his reflection in the mirror, and zeroed in on his lips. Last night, not even six hours ago, those pale red lips that he could see clear as the fucking day had pressed against Miles’ lush ones and— _Whoa!_

_Lush._

Since fucking when were Miles’ lips lush? They were fucking lips. A bit rounded. Reddish. Lips! Not lush!

“ALEX?”

Eyes rolled. Taylor had arrived. Not that he minded the presence of his girlfriend in general but today, it was a nuisance. If she was here, then she wanted to spend time with him and his day was all booked up as it was. Currently, it was about eight a.m. and that meant he’d return to bed in a moment and fall back asleep for at least another two hours. At the age of thirty, he could no longer function properly if his sleep-time was below a solid six-hour minimum. Then he’d have to shower and that would require time since he was funked out of his mind thanks to the unprecedented drunken stupidity that was last night’s kiss. When that was dealt with, he’d have to either eat something or, in a far likelier scenario, he’d have to visit Miles and eat at his place ‘cause he was out of food and Miles never was.

Also, eggs.

Those six white eggs had done him in.

Eggs were as low on the list of possible birthday gifts as items could go. And that left only one explanation. They weren’t eggs. They were something else. A stand-in for something. A quiz. A joke. Something meaningful! Judging by the way Miles had hogged those fucking eggs to himself last night, his friend definitely knew something, and it was about time he spilled.

So, there was that. And that would probably take him all afternoon.

Which left little to no time for Taylor.

She stepped into the bathroom. “Here you are. How was the party?” At the sight of him, her face turning knowing. “Ah, that good, eh? You look hungover.”

_Thanks for stating the obvious_ , he thought. _I’m well aware._ “’twas a good one.” A yawn escaped him, and he stretched his arms far and wide, too late realizing what a mistake it was. He didn’t want to get rid of his sleepiness. He wanted to cling to it, take it back to bed. He rubbed his belly. “Gonna sleep some more.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m here.”

“Yes.”

“Want me in bed with you?”

“To sleep?” He shrugged. “If you’re tired.”

Her expression became cold in an instant. “Gonna leave you to it, then. I’ll go shopping. Want anything special for lunch?”

“Whatever you want. Not gonna be here. Tell you what, I’ll call you tomorrow. How ‘bout it? Today is…”

“Bad?” she finished for him. Disappointment joined the iciness on her face. “Got that. Whatever. Don’t call me. I’ll call you. When I feel like it.”

It sounded like a good idea and yet, he couldn’t shake the suspicion he’d just fucked something up. Another yawn. He cast the worry from his mind. “Close the door on your way out. Bye, T!”

Three hours of sleep, half an hour of showering, and a giant mug of coffee later, Alex sat on the counter of his kitchen, phone in hand, diving deep into this marvelous thing called “Google”. He loved it. This “Google” was amazing. One could just type in a word or a question and out of nowhere, a million answers appeared. Some were smart, some were funny, and some could lead him astray to the point of forgetting time and place and even important commitments.

He’d been late to a recording session a while ago after spending two hours on a website that offered ancient, medieval synonyms to every modern word in existence. The stuff he’d learned!

“Egg,” he said out loud as he typed it. “Let’s see what you got for me, _G_.” The results came in. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” There were about a million people selling eggs in the greater LA area. As he skimmed the list of offers, he realized one of those sellers was his next-door neighbor Fred! Where the fuck was Fred keeping his chickens? Alex shook his head, shrugging off the question. That was one he’d have to tackle another day.

Today was all about different eggs. Not the nutritious kind, but the birthday-gift kind. He scrolled past a very informative _Wikipedia_ article. Skipped over various recipes that fired his stomach into overdrive. Briefly chuckled at some silly egg jokes. And finally, he landed on a site that claimed to know the secret behind the perfectly cooked egg.

“I know how to cook eggs,” grumbled Alex into his empty kitchen. “Boil water, dunk an egg, eat it. What I want to know is why you put ‘em in a bag and gift ‘em!” He tried again. “Work with me, _G_.” Fingers typed. “Eggs Birthday Gift” Capital letters, as had been pointed out to him on various occasions, were something Google didn’t give a shit about. But Alex cared for it and so he didn’t mind taking the extra step and choosing the big letters over the little ones.

The top result was ‘Etsy’.

There was a site that scared him.

He’d had a grotesque run-in with it, once. Somehow, he didn’t quite remember the details, he’d wound up there, scrolling through self-made _Arctic Monkeys_ merch. He’d spotted a mock-up of him, some comic-shaped Alex with a quote bubble attached to it. He didn’t mind the figurine, but the quote came with a typo. He couldn’t say if the quote was accurate or not. The amount of shit he’d blurted in his life was horrifying. The typo had bugged him, though. He’d reached out to the seller, revealed his identity to him or her, and ended up having a heated two-day back and forth via text message. In the end, he’d gotten reprimanded by his management and somebody from the label’s PR department had taken care of the issue.

The figurine and the typo had vanished from Etsy. A day later, Miles had called and told him that Alex’s name was low-key trending on Twitter and that somebody wanted him canceled for his lack of humor. He still didn’t know what Miles had meant by that.

His finger swiped and swiped and swiped. Faberge eggs, fake, all of them. Painted eggs. Eggs with secret messages.

Eyes popped wide. “That’s it!” Maybe they weren’t cooked eggs, but fortune cookie eggs! Maybe they were delivering secret messages! Maybe Miles had a clandestine love affair. That would certainly explain his odd behavior!

Alex shut his phone off, jumped off the counter, and grabbed his sunglasses. “Let’s see who you’re screwing behind my back…”

“Alex?”

Alex stood in front of Miles’ door. For five bloody long minutes, he'd knocked until his friend had finally deigned it necessary to open the fucking door. He’d been this close to using his own key! Now, he wished he had. There, Miles was, face flushed, eyes drenched in guilt, wearing a robe and judging by the gaping fabric, little else.

He canted his head, lips pursed with interest, and gave his body the once-over. “Where is she?” He scanned for love-bites and other telltale signs.

“Who?”

A finger darted out, flicking the robe’s lapel. “The one keeping you naked ‘til noon. Do I know her? Was she at the party last night?” He'd gone home alone. She must have arrived in the morning, figured Alex. And that would mean that A, Miles knew her, and B, she knew where Miles lived. They were acquaintances, therefore. “I bet I know her.” He knew everyone in Miles' circle.

Hastily closing the robe tight, Miles crossed his arms. His eyes, jumpy and hidden, avoided him. To Alex’s utter bafflement, Miles had the guts to sound annoyed. “Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout. What are you doing here? You told me yesterday that Taylor was in town. You know, like for one day only because she was busy doing all this modeling stuff, and you wanted to take her out!”

“Yeah, she dropped by.” Oh. _Oooh_. That explained the miffed face. “Eh, plans fell through. Long story. Forget it.” He straightened his posture. “We’re talking you, now. Not me. Spill ‘bout the bird. Wanna know.”

Eyes rolled merrily inside Miles’ sockets. “Make sense, will you?!”

“You look like sex!” He tilted forward, trying to sneak a peek into his apartment. “She still in there? Is she nice? Let me meet her!”

“Nobody is in there but me!”

“Tell me you didn’t have her sneak out over the fire escape!”

“I swear you’ve lost it.”

“I haven’t lost anything!” He was alone? Alex moved fast. “In that case, no reason not to invite me inside. Move,” nudged Alex, hands pushing against Miles’ hips. Hips that were firm and defined and contoured. Had they always been that? He'd touched his hips before, but never more than fleetingly. A hand here and there. A quick one, between friends. Right now, he stopped barging into Miles' apartment and chose to linger, allowing his fingers a moment's worth of exploration. Both thumbs ventured out, mapping the outline of those hipbones. What a singular sensation. It was far removed from the delicate shape of his girlfriend. Miles' front was robust, almost. Firm and imposing.

Miles drew in a shaky breath. “Alex…what are you—”

“Doing? Hell if I know,” he admitted upfront, still enthralled by the shapes his thumbs chased. Hands dropped further.

Miles jolted; batted Alex’s arms away. “Will you take your hands off me? What is going on with you?”

Going on? Nothing was going on! He slipped his hands into his pockets. “You keep trying to blame this on me. I haven’t done anything!”

“Not blaming anything on you,” groused Miles, closing the door behind him. “You…” He took a deep, steady breath. The noise was vexing, grating against Alex's nerves considering Miles only ever breathed in _like that_ when he was under the forever false impression that Alex had done something stupid. “Sensin’ a fight coming up.” Miles flattened his tone. “Let’s try this over. Hi, good morning, Al. What brings you here this early?”

“Eggs.”

Miles slouched against the closed door, his head hitting the back. “Let it goo-o-oooh. They were a silly little gift from a mate. A joke gift.”

“Eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Liar. I know it's not about the egg. It's about what's inside the egg!” Alex narrowed his eyes, sniffing a bone when Miles' cheeks flushed crimson.

His friend fidgeted with his robe. “How do you mean?”

So, there was a message inside those eggs! “They are special eggs, aren't they? I know they are. I figured it out.”

“You…” Miles pulled the robe securely around himself. “You have?”

“Yes, I have. Look, if you're cold, go and get dressed! At least you're no longer melting like you were last night. Let me see it. The egg.”

“The— _What_ egg?” He all but screeched.

Alex blinked. Oh, he had to play this carefully! Obviously, he'd concluded correctly that the eggs contained a message but there were six eggs. Six messages. “The one you opened.”

Disgust and shock sprawled lavishly on Miles' features. “Not gonna…no! Alex!”

_Outrage? Huh._ Must have been some kind of message, then. “Not gonna tell anyone!” How fucking secretive was this message that he'd gotten? Like, fucking what did it say? Something dirty? Why was Miles clutching his pearls like some quivering old lady? Alex was seething on the inside. His friend was treating his egg version of a fortune cookie like a coded communication from allied forces!

“You,” announced Miles as she shoved away from the door, “are crossing a line!” He grabbed his shoulders, spun him around, and opened the front door. As a parting gift, Miles slapped Alex's ass. “Go get your own egg if you're so desperate! Try Amazon. Call later!”

“Amaz— huh, what?!” The door shut in his face. “MILES!”

#Miles

He stared at the door he'd just slammed shut. No shit! Alex had lost it. He had the guts to show up, accuse him of having an affair, and then, out of bloody nowhere, he wanted to see the egg that Miles was using for his personal pleasure? The man was a freaking maniac!

Shaking his head on his way back into his bedroom, Miles, not trusting his favorite friend for even a single second, shut the bedroom door as well _and_ locked it just in case. One never knew when Alex would pull out his keys and steamroll past some line he didn't see.

Blowing out a deep one, he gathered his thoughts, discarded this weird moment with Alex, one so fucking out of the ordinary that Miles hadn't even managed to call him out for his little lusting session upon his arrival, one that had scorched the skin above his hipbones in the most dangerous ways, and—

_Stop,_ he berated himself. _Let it go. Take a moment._ He inhaled. Exhaled. Slowly. Then again. Bit by bit, Alex slipped from his mind and Miles' attention returned to the five eggs in the carton and the one unwrapped right next to it. The small silicon egg had come with a package of lube and he'd been about to add two and two together.

Something he rushed to do, now.

He poured the lube into the preexisting whole at the bottom of the egg, just enough to serve its purpose, gave the knot of his robe's belt a yank, and smiled. “Let's have an egg, then…”

One extensive google search last night had revealed that these six white eggs were masturbation eggs, made for men who were willing to try a certain something extra when one was forced to make do with one's self. His breath caught in his throat when the tip of his arousal slipped into the gooey opening. The material of the egg began to stretch, nearly all the way down to his base. And inside this wonderful, inventive egg was an undefined structure, as though it was filled with ridges or nubs or something.

Miles moved his fist up and down his shaft, biting his lip as the pleasure began to sprawl. “Mmh…” Nifty one, this egg. With a grin, he glanced at the other five. Good thing he had so little to do in the upcoming days. His grip intensified. Eyes fell close. “Aaah…” One hand shot out, grabbed the dresser for support. God, this felt good!

It was getting warmer. Liquid heat swelled inside his body, his breathing turned shallow, and as his lids shut, his imagination drifted back to before, to Alex's thumbs grazing his hip bones. He felt that memory in his balls. Felt them tighten. He couldn't fight it, couldn't shake the image of Alex's lips mashed against his own last night. His strokes became faster, firmer. Up, down, up, down. The inner composition of the egg did its part and before he knew it, he spilled inside the device, gasping for air and blinking through the orgasm that came much sooner than he'd wished.

He pulled the egg off, tossed it into the trashcan, and smirked. “One down, five to go.” His tongue swiped over his lips. “Best gift ever.” Eyes landed on the mirror and at the sight of his reflection, Miles faltered. The eggs were great. No questions asked.

Bracing his palms onto the dresser, staring into his own eyes, Miles frowned. What about his Alex-fantasy, though? _That,_ he told his reflection in the sternest way possible, _cannot happen again. Not ever!_ That was a one-time thing. A kinky moment of indulgence and nothing more. It was bad enough that Alex had at times snuck his way into Miles' dirty dreams. That, he could forgive. He wasn't responsible for what happened when his mind shut off. But daylight-fantasizing? That went too far!

Alex was his best mate. His friend. Not some center-fold to rub one out to!

_Fuck._

There was a visual…

#Alex

Taylor hadn't answered her phone. He didn't blame her. He also hadn't tried as hard to rectify his mistake as he ought to have done. Lying out in the back by the pool, staring at the night sky, Alex had once more begun the attempt to count all the stars he could spot. Somewhere around fifty, he'd gotten tangled in his thoughts, lost the number, and had tried over. The second time, he'd made it to twenty-seven. Then he'd had to stop for a bathroom break. The third attempt had gotten him close to two-hundred and seventy. Until a text from Miles had arrived.

_'Sha#ff…s!'_

_'That's supposed to mean something?'_ He'd replied.

_'Shark's Bar,'_ came back now.

Alex checked the time. Almost midnight. _'Nah, too beat to go out.'_

His phone rang. “Told ya. Too beat to go out and—”

“ALLESSSSH!”

A groan. “You're wasted.”

“Aleeeshhh!”

“Gimme that,” a sharp female voice pierced through the slurring vowels. “Are you Alex?”

“Yes?”

“I'm Linda. Can you come and pick your friend up? He came with a bunch of others and they're as whacked as he is. I'd get him a cab but he doesn't recall his address. Also, I don't think he'd make it through his door without help. Shark's Bar. Address is—”

“Know the address. Need ten minutes,” said Alex and rose to his feet. Oh, Miles would owe him for this one!

“Aleeeesh!”

“X,” repeated Alex for the hundredths time. “My name ends with an X.”

“Marks the spot,” giggled Miles.

“Nooo,” he lamented, getting frustrated over Miles' drunken jumbling of their lyrics. He didn't mind wasted people as long as he was part of the group. Being sober and forced to watch, that sucked. Trying one last time, he poked Miles' chest. “That's not what the lyric expresses. It's…” Miles' face was blank. Hollow. Empty. Alex gave up. “Oh, forget it.” He unlocked Miles' apartment door, wrapped his arm back around his waist, and heaved him away from the wall where he'd briefly parked him. “Go, come on. You're heavy. You need to help me!”

“'m very muscly. Very fi'h. Been running lotsh!”

Miles found it important to stress that fact at a moment when Alex wished he'd be little more than bones and skin. That would help. Groaning, he tightened his grip on him. “Right foot, left foot, then right foot.”

“Bigfoot!” Miles paused, and, stumbling as they already were, it made them wobble into the apartment. “Think he's real?”

“If he is, it'd be awfully nice of him to drop by and help me haul your heavy, drunk-as-fuck ass into bed,” muttered Alex, swallowing a curse. “Come on!”

“Where to?” Miles shuffled forward.

“Bedroooooom,” drawled Alex, putting up a fight. “Bed!”

Miles full-stopped. “No.”

Alex grunted.“Yes!”

He was immovable. “No.”

“Miles, you need to sleep. Or not. But you can't stay here, standing up, 'cause I'm two fucking seconds away from dropping your ass onto the floor. You're bloody heavy!”

“No,” huffed Miles and began to lose his footing.

Alex saved himself, jumping away at the last second, and laughed as Miles plopped to the ground with a loud thud. “Warned ya.”

He rubbed his ass. “Ow.”

Drooping his head, rolling his eyes, Alex extended a hand. “Come on up. Bedroom's just a few feet away.”

At the word 'bedroom', Miles pulled his hand back. “No.”

“What's the fucking problem?”

“Caaahn't go in dere,” garbled Miles, stunning Alex with the expert use of his decisive tone despite the words being mushed.

“Hiding a body in there?” He'd joked it. But a thought sprung to his mind. Maybe it wasn't a body. Maybe it was a woman! Eyes became small, zoomed in on the bedroom door. Nah, it couldn't be. He wouldn't have gone out without a woman if he had one to go out with. A sigh emerged. “What's so bad about a bed?”

“Nothing,” mumbled Miles. “You can't take me.”

“Oh, so you just don't want to sleep in your bed?”

“I do!”

“Then let me help you!”

“Can't. 's secret!”

“Your bedroom?” He'd been inside of it. He'd fucking slept in his bed! Once. A long time ago. Coincidentally, he'd been the one drunk-as-fuck that night. “Mi, just get up. It's late. Wanna go home.”

“Then go.”

“And leave you on the floor?”

He leaned forward, crawling over to the plushy carpet nearby, and settled in. “Gonna slee' right 'ere if you don't leave.”

“You're being ridiculous!”

“Takin' a stan'.”

For what, Alex had no idea. But the sight of it was madly adorable. There Miles was, glowing red, dazed out of his mind, words slurred, trying to find the perfect spot on the carpet like some bloody poodle. “Nuts, that's what you are.” Walking over to him, he tossed his head back and gulped a frustrated growl. Miles closed his eyes, dead to the world and asleep in a hurry. He'd always been good at that, drowsing off as if all that required was a switch being flipped. Snatching a blanket from the couch, he tossed it over him. From his kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of water, and then he made his way into the bedroom, from there into his bathroom, to the cabinet where he knew he stashed the aspirin.

On his way back into the bedroom, his eyes landed on the eggs. He hadn't searched for them! Not deliberately, at any rate. Maybe, one could say, he'd casually glanced around for them. But there they were. Five eggs.

One was missing.

Alex, nosy and unapologetic, hurried over. Putting water and painkillers aside, he didn't dare to turn to the light on, afraid he'd stir Miles out of his dreams. What was so bloody special about these things? He plucked one out and inspected it. They weren't light. It wasn't empty! Something was in it. More than a simple message. He shook it, scanned for sounds. No rattling noises.

_Huh._

_Interesting. Very, very interesting._

“Aleesh?”

“Name's—” Alex stopped. What was the point? “Coming!” He stole an egg. He'd defend his crime tomorrow, but tonight, he'd take one with him. Quickly shoving it into his back pocket, relieved to find they were solid and durable, he made his way back out and placed water and aspirin into Miles' hand whilst perching down with a sympathetic smile. “Drink lots.”

“Wanna sleep here,” murmured Miles after a sip of water. Alex handed him a pill and Miles swallowed that, too.

“Sleep here, babe.” He brushed some strands of hair from his forehead, gently. From there, his hand slipped to Miles' cheek where it settled. “Gonna check on you in the morning.”

A nod rolled from his head. His voice was quiet and powerless. “Oookay.”

“Night, Mi.”

“Thanks, Aleesh.”

He was still chuckling by the time he closed the door behind him.

#Miles

He was going to kill his friends. Yesterday, they'd knocked on his door, apologized for missing his birthday party, and all but kidnapped him and gotten him drunk. For what? All for a brutal headache and a night out that he scarcely remembered. Struggling to make his way through his apartment, ambling for the shower, he stopped by the dresser for a fresh pair of briefs and a short pause to regain momentum and a new point to focus on. He found one. The doorknob to the bathroom. “That way,” he told his befuddled mind and shuffled there. God, he couldn't recall the last time he'd been this strung out.

“Gettin' too old for this shit…”

It was only after the water had lost its soothing heat that he'd emerged from the shower, bundled into a towel, and took a seat on the plush, soft bed. Why hadn't he slept in it last night? It had been here! All he'd needed to do was get into it! One more thought that would keep him occupied today. With a groan, he rose back to his feet, figured the day was one for lazing around, and pulled a pair of sweats from his closet. The move far from graceful, he accidentally wrenched a bunch of other stuff out as well. Stuff that tumbled to the floor in front of his eyes. For half a second, he pondered picking it up and placing it back. At the prospect of lowering his head, however, his stomach rumbled with opposition. _Bad idea_ , Miles decided, and left the chaos for tomorrow.

On his way out, his attention skimmed over the eggs on the dresser. Should he…? Nah. Maybe later. He dropped the towel en route, already wearing the briefs, and somehow, with decent results, managed to put the sweats on. Next up, coffee. Eyes on the coffeemaker, he aimed there. Opened the lid. Reached up for the powder. Almost dropped the powder. Pressed 'start'. Yanked the plug. “Water,” he muttered. “Coffee needs water.” Rubbing his head, he stood in front of the sink. _How am I going to get the water into the coffeemaker?_

Nearby, from the couch, a bark of laughter filled the air. “Fuck, Mi. You're completely out of it!”

“Who said that?” He looked there. Cross-legged with a styrofoam cup in one hand and an open issue of _Rolling Stone_ in his other one, Alex sat on his couch, looking wildly entertained. Miles slouched. “What do you want? Have you been here all night?”

“God, no! I slept in a bed. Unlike you. Got here a few minutes ago.” He raised the cup. “Want coffee?”

Miles nodded. He'd really like coffee.

“Here.”

Lips pouted. “Can you bring it to me?”

More laughter. “We've been out together. Like, we've had some rough nights. Even I haven't managed to get you this bad. Who'd you party with?”

“Some guys from back in the day. Joe was there. Some others.” He observed as Alex made his way toward him. “There was a drinking game.” Stills of it were coming back to him. “Think I lost.”

Carefully, Alex placed the cup into Miles' eager hands. It was warm and full and it smelled so good. Alex did, too. Smell good, that was. Miles leaned forward, buried his nose into his friend's hair, and inhaled. “Mmh…'s that shampoo that I like.”

Tilting backward, eyebrows high and arched, Alex leveled a strange look at him. “Did you just sniff me?”

Oh no. He had! “Uh…” Miles busied himself with the coffee and turned away. “Why are you here?”

“Friendly visit. Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, of course.” Why would he ask? Miles decided not to dwell on that. Sipping coffee and standing up was tough enough. He ought to reduce the tasks. Cut them in half. Spotting a chair, he sat down on it.

Sip by sip, his brain resumed its activities and more of last night's blur sharpened back into discernible images. He'd not lost the drinking game. He'd won. Considering his headache, he'd beg to argue. Never mind. There'd been a woman that had flirted with him. He'd told her he wasn't single. Why had he done that? So many questions! Alex had driven him home. He'd helped him into the apartment. He'd wanted to help him to bed, but Miles had refused. Why? He had another sip. Focused.

“Why would I…”

_The eggs!_

He hadn't wanted Alex to see the eggs. The masturbation eggs. The very eggs sitting on his dresser like a bloody Brit Award, proud and about for everyone to stare at! Sluggish as he still was, he hurried into the bedroom, clutching the coffee as he went.

_Phew!_

All five of them. Still there. And the bathroom was closed. The toilet was being flushed. Miles tore a drawer open and tossed them inside, slamming the thing shut just in time.

The water ran. Footsteps. The door opened. “Miles?”

Leaning against the drawer, portraying an image of casual indifference, Miles shrugged at Alex. “Yeah?”

His friend snorted. “You good?”

“Yes!”

“Alright, then. I can see that you managed to survive the night. And you don't look all that interested in going out for lunch. Do I assume correctly?”

A beat. “Yes?”

“I shall leave, then.”

That would be amazing! His presence was messing with his head in funny ways. He was noticing the weirdest shit, like the way that shirt clung to Alex's body. Or how tan his skin was. Stuff he wouldn't usually notice. “If you must,” he told him, continuing his nonchalant act. “Let's meet up tonight. Or tomorrow!” Tomorrow would be better. That way, he'd have a day to reset his mind and catch some much-needed rest. “Tomorrow.”

Alex grinned. A peculiar, pregnant little grin. One that screamed, _I know what you're thinking!_ Did he? Did Alex know? And if so, could he maybe tell him so that Miles knew what he was thinking? 'cause staring at Alex was making it impossible to decipher the mess in his head. “I'll leave you to it.”

“To what?” called Miles after him, puzzled, trailing Alex with his eyes.

“Oh, you know… _stuff_.”

“Not doing _stuff_!”

“Whatever you say. Bye, Mi!”

#Alex

Four days! Amazon would need four days to ship a bunch of eggs. Even if he rushed the order, paid extra for express shipping, it'd still take four fucking days. Apparently, the eggs were in high demand. He tapped the bridge of his big, black-tainted aviator sunglasses and moved them into place. One hand darted out, fished the old baseball cap from the passenger seat, and pulled it deep into his face. Then he slipped out of his car, checked over his shoulder for possible witnesses and only after he'd convinced himself that none were there, did he hurry across the street and into the sex shop.

Last night, after returning from cab-duties and leaving Miles to slumber on the floor of his apartment, Alex had switched the bright LED spots in his living room on and taken his time dissecting the egg and discovering its secrets.

It hadn't taken long.

One twist and the silicon inside had revealed itself. Along with a small sachet of lube. To be absolutely sure and not fall victim to false interpretations _again_ , he'd given Google another shot and five minutes and a short video later, he'd been convinced. His initial assumption that the eggs were a container for secret messages had been way off. The egg was a masturbation egg.

And Miles had already used one!

Alex was an overly curious person by nature, so, by default, he'd wanted to try one, too. See what the fuss was about. But he couldn't use the one he'd filched. That one, he'd needed to return. Else, he'd risked losing Miles' trust, which was simply no option.

Hence his trip to Miles and subsequently, a trip into his bathroom. He'd snuck the egg back into place. Just in time.

It had taken care of one problem. The second one remained. Where to find a bloody egg? Ebay. Two days delivery. Target. Sold out. BestBuy. No eggs. Alex swept his gaze around once more, this time taking inventory of the shop's interior, of other customers, and of the employees.

“Welcome to Karen's Kinky Corner,” announced a middle-aged woman in a bright pink polo shirt that read KKC, underlined by the drawing of a whip.

“Shhhh,” hushed Alex, ducking his head.

The woman laughed. “Buddy, you're in a sex shop. Nobody's here for bible quotes or pearl necklaces. Pearl strings, maybe. How may I help you?”

He raised his head, his eyes stumbling over the logo on her shirt, one written in bold letters across her chest, and he centered in on that.

Her voice was no longer booming but cutting. “Eyes up here, dude!”

Alex's rolled. “KKC. It's an odd abbreviation. KKK would make more sense, don't you agree? Although I suppose, a point can be made about the historical use of that one. CCC, maybe. Try…Cornelia's Clandestine Corner.”

“Who is Cornelia?”

“Who is Karen,” he countered.

“ _I_ am Karen.”

“It's your real name?” He hadn't expected that. “I'm Ale— I'm Miles.”

She laughed. “Sure. _Miles_. Let me make a wild guess and presume this is your first trip to a sex shop?”

She was good. “You presume correctly. However, it's not my puritanical view, which I don't have, or my lack of interest, which is quite strong, that have kept me away. It was an absence of necessity.”

“You're a teacher?”

“What? No. I'm a musi— Sure, let's go with teacher. I'm looking for eggs.”

“Vibrating eggs, colorful eggs, remote-controlled eggs, big eggs, small eggs, anal eggs, vaginal eggs…be precise.”

_Wow._ “Silicone eggs? Like, white ones that one can…” He inclined, whispering, “masturbate with?”

“Sex toys usually are aimed at that,” she informed him dryly. “Who wants the fun. Man or woman?”

Eyes narrowed. “I do.”

“Perfect. Follow me.” She led him down a row that was aptly titled _'Dildo Lane_ '. If he weren't looking at it with his own eyes, he'd not believe it. The number of vibrators was jaw-dropping. How was a guy supposed to live up to this candy-colored colorama of hyper-perfected fake penises?

“Anal or penile?”

Alex ran into a dick. A giant paper cutout, one whose strikingly perfect, soft-pink crown he was touching with both hands to avoid toppling over. Did Miles' crown look like that?

The woman spoke up. “Miles?”

_Where?_

He jerked his hands back. Nervously checked around. Then he remembered that he'd introduced himself as Miles. Alex relaxed. _Somewhat_. “Pe–what?”

“The egg,” stressed Karen. “You want to insert it into your rectum or—”

“No!” Out of instinct, his hand went to his ass and he covered it.

“Well, you're missing out. Anyway, I think this is what you're looking for, then.”

He was given a twelve-pack of eggs, the same eggs that Miles had gotten. Even the brand was a match. “Yes!”

“Will twelve be enough?”

“Twelve?” How sex-starved did she think he was? “I only need one!”

“It's all or none.”

Oh! “All,” he gritted, out of options.

She grinned at him, reminding Alex of the guy who'd sold him his car. She, too, wore the cocky  _'Watch me take your money'_ -smile as led him back to the register. “That's ninety-nine, ninety-nine. Cash or credit card?”

“A hundred bucks? They are six dollars an egg on Amazon!”

“Buy Amazon, then.”

Argh! He bit his tongue and pulled his Visa. “Do you have a bag for me?”

“Clear plastic is free, brown paper bag is five dollars.”

“For a fucking paper bag?”

“Want one or not?”

“Hand it to me,” he sneered. Angry as he was at being robbed and held at _egg-_ point, the woman did know how to make money. He had to give her that. “Thanks,” he hissed on his way out.

“Give us a shout-out!” she called after him. “Karen's Kinky Corner, you want to come, we'll make you!”

How would it play out if he gave her a shout-out at his next gig? He could do it in Sheffield in a few weeks, in front of friends and family. On stage with Miles, acting all grown-up and Puppet-y, he'd announce in front of a few thousand people to visit Karen's. Oh yeah – no!

Alex bunched the bag underneath his arm, stepped out into the bright sunlight, and—

“You're Alex Turner!”

_Fuck._

“Come on,” nagged Matt, feet dangling from Alex's kitchen counter, beer in hand, “you got made coming out of a sex shop.” In his other hand, he held his phone. “She even tagged the fucking shop on Instagram. At least tell me what you got. I'm looking for a nice gift for Bri. Any suggestions? Ribbed condoms? Strawberry-flavored nipple clamps? Or—”

“Strawberry–what?” Alex gaped at him from the kitchen table. Stashed away underneath his bed, locked inside his bedrooms, were twelve overpriced eggs, one of which he was dying to put to the test, yet instead of enjoying the fruits of this laborious trip he'd taken a few hours ago, here he was, stuck entertaining his bored drummer. His tone was expectedly crabbed. “You don't like strawberries.”

“Bri does.”

A picture began to form in his head. Matt, nude, with nipple clamps. Alex shuddered.

“Nipple clamps?” From outside, through the open patio door, Miles sauntered into the house.

Matt shrugged. “Nice extra.”

“Don't they hurt?”

“A bit. You'll get used to it. Becomes part of the fun.”

“Do you mind not breaking into my place?” Alex snapped his head around. “I got a front door.”

“Oh, come on! You're the one breaking and entering my apartment all the time. You did it just this morning.” He thieved the can of coke from Alex's hand and drank some, only to fix his curiosity back at Matt. “I don't know. Pain?”

Putting his phone away, Matt nodded. “Not the brutal kind. Just a little spicy something. Hey,” asked he, aiming his words at Alex. “Did you happen to see if they had any new dildos on display?”

This was madness. Ping-ponging from Miles to Matt, back and forth, Alex sat there, his jaw on the floor, listening with disbelief as his two friends discussed sex-toys in exactly the same way Alex would discuss fucking guitar picks! He shook his head, gawking at Matt's question. “You do realize you got one that's attached to you, right? It came with birth.”

Cackling, Matt turned to Miles. “Ain't he cute? So innocent, our lil' Alex!”

Alex spotted a random guitar pick on the table and tossed it at him, wishing desperately for a supersized dildo to throw instead. “Fuck you!”

“Ooh, big, dirty words!”

“Have pity on him,” Miles chastened Matt and snickered. “He went to a sex shop today, that took a toll on him!” He brushed his hand over Alex's head, stroking his hair. “Our sweet one's still blown away by it!”

“If only he were all blown away,” smirked Matt. “Where's Taylor? Maybe she can help.”

“Fuck. You,” bit Alex and snatched his can of coke from Miles' hand. “Thief!” He sipped some. “You said we should meet tomorrow. Not today.”

“Got bored. Seriously, Al. A sex shop?” Miles sat down next to him. “How'd that happen?”

“I looked up Christmas gifts for you. Was thinking condoms. Extra-small.”

“Buy extra-large.” Miles shifted, leaned closer. A spark flashed in his eyes. “Take the glow-in-the-dark ones. They're hard to come by.”

Alex chuckled, switching from cranky to entertained in the nick of time. “Glow-in-the-dark?” He tried imagining it. The pitch-black bedroom, no light at all, and from below the covers a glowing rod emerged, bopping against Miles' stomach. Shouldn't it concern him that the idea was stimulating more than it was shell-shocking? He licked his lips and brought his head in, whispering, “you tried 'em?”

“Maybe,” Miles said, humor in his tone.

His chocolate brown eyes were wide and mysterious and focused on his upper arm, right where Alex lazed a finger over Miles' bare skin. Below the smooth surface, there was solid muscle. It was strong and unbending. The curve ticked underneath his touch as if to tell him his finger was welcome. It darted higher.

Matt cleared his throat. “Well?”

That snapped him out of it. Alex moved his hand away. “Well what?” he asked, sitting back. It was getting hot in here, wasn't it? Driving both hands through his hair, he vented out a breath.

“Dinner,” repeated the drummer. “Us, tonight? Guys got any plans?”

As a matter of fact, he did. Alex smiled apologetically. “Planned on a night in. Mind's full of lyrics. Gotta take some time and write 'em down, you know? Need to be alone and such.”

“Alright. Miles?”

“Sure.”

“Know what?” Alex jumped to his feet. “You go right now. Late-night food isn't good. Bad for metabolism and all that.” He yanked on Miles' arm. “Come, now. Up and at it.”

“Alex!” Miles scoffed.

Alex kept going, gave his back a gentle nudge. Touched his waist, his hips, sank his hands down to the lower end of his back, right where his butt began to curve out and—

“Al,” hissed Miles, jumping forward.

“Did you just grab his ass?” gaped Matt.

“What? No!” Shit, had he? Alex snorted. “Nonsense. Go now. Go, go, go! Off with you!” He had an egg to tend to. _Soon!_

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” In the door to his bedroom loomed Taylor, and she loomed large as she always did. Eyes spilling fire, hands high on her waist, she looked veritably murderous.

Alex, in a precarious position, flung the bedsheet over his naked body, and rolled to his side, covering his egg-covered arousal and doing his best to mask his mortification. “T…you came back.”

“You fucking blew me off today so you can rub one out? Are you…” She wiped her face as she scowled at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I hadn't planned on it,” countered Alex, defensive, forgetting his state of embarrassment as her anger started to bother him. He hadn't done anything wrong! Fine, maybe he had. But _this…_ his _egg_ indulgence, that was above par! “Just happened. I don't keep you from taking care of yourself. You got a fucking drawer full of vibrating stuff. I don't take offense.” Maybe he should.

“To use when you're _not_ there. Not _when_ you're there! What was that thing on your dick?”

Damnit, she'd seen it? Alex glanced away. Rolled a shoulder. “Sort of a…thing.”

“A thing,” she repeated. Sneered.

“An egg.”

“A what?”

Beneath the sheets, he pulled it off, then wrapped the sheet around his middle, and tossed the egg into the bin on his way into the bathroom. “I wasn't lying, you know? I am busy. I used a few minutes of spare time to…” Their eyes met. He squared his shoulders. “To relieve some stress. I have to go, now.”

“Where to?”

“A meeting,” he volleyed back, not sure how he felt about the doubt in her voice. Sure, he was lying, he had no appointment, but she didn't know he was lying. Shouldn't she trust him?

“Have your meeting,” snapped Taylor. “I'm leaving town tomorrow. Maybe you find time to meet up when we see each other in France. _Next month._ Enjoy your fucking egg, asshole.”

Alex sat in his car, parked at the curb in front of Miles' apartment, and typed. _'How's dinner? Matt keeping you entertained?'_

_'We're talking sex toys. Wanna join? We're at Ben's. We'll be around for a while.'_

_'Nope. Still busy. Later.'_

_Perfect,_ thought Alex, grabbed the paper bag with the fresh egg and rushed out and into Miles' building. He didn't trust his friends or his girlfriend to stay away from him tonight. But Miles had only ever trusted him with his spare key, and if Miles was busy discussing troubling stuff with Matt, then Alex could use his apartment to enjoy some badly needed private time.

Five minutes later, being a boundaries-respecting friend, he'd locked the door to Miles' apartment from the inside, had neatly folded his pants and placed them onto the edge of the couch, he'd put on an old record he hadn't heard in far too long, and retreated into the bedroom where he now placed a fresh towel onto the mattress and filled the egg with lube.

“Finally,” he growled and looked down at himself. All ready! “Here we go again.”

He'd sported a semi since leaving his own place. The thought of beating one out had kept him stimulated all way. And the prospect of doing it at Miles' added an extra layer of excitement. He bit his lip as he pushed into the bottom of this fabulous toy and slowly dragged the silicone down, relishing the moment as it played out. His grip got firmer when he moved up, only to return back down. Eyes drifted shut. _Shit, this feels good!_ He rolled his head from side to side, relaxing his muscles, letting the warm sensation of the egg take over his mind. Up and down, up and down. The familiar feeling of growing arousal spread everywhere. “Fuuuuck!”

#Miles

“What the…” As soon as he'd opened the door, he was greeted by the heady sounds of vintage Bowie at his best. Had he forgotten to turn the music off? Nah. He hadn't listened to music. Had he? Miles scratched his head, wondering. Barely thirty and already, he suffered blackouts. This decade of his life was not off to a good start! With a shake of his head, he tossed the keys by the door, shrugged out of his jacket, and spotted the folded trousers on the edge of his couch.

Okay, that definitely wasn't him. First, he didn't fold his trousers. He either hung them up or, more rather the case, tossed them somewhere and forgot about them. And second, he wasn't into flare pants and those were fucking flaring wide. He could see that from afar.

There was only one person he knew chasing that style.

“Alex?” Miles kicked his shoes off. “Al, where are you? What are you doing at my place?” Without pants, he wanted to add but held his tongue for now.

No reply.

He looked around for him. Living room. Kitchen. None. “Gettin' pissy 'bout me walkin' into his house,” he muttered on his way through his apartment. “What's he doin'? Breakin' into my place! Alex!”

Entering the bedroom, he startled, tumbled backward, and shut the door in a heartbeat.

“It's not what you think,” called Alex from inside the room.

“You're sitting on my bed, jacking off!”

“Not…no…that's not…”

Miles held on to the handle and jolted when the door was pulled inward. Alex emerged, tangled into a sheet. Eyes low, focusing on the ground and not daring to meet Miles, he bit his lip and gave his shoulder a twitch. “I was finishing up. You caught me at an inopportune moment.”

He snorted. “No shit. Why the fuck,” bristled Miles, shooting daggers at him, “were you having an 'inopportune moment' at _my_ place?”

“For privacy,” Alex let him know, casually, like one might say _I'll have a water_ , or _pass me the paper_.

“Priv—” Miles bit back a snide comeback. Instead, he indulged him. After all, he was dying to know what had driven him into this idiocy. “You live alone. You have privacy at your place.”

“Funny, you'd think that, right?” He picked up his gaze and met Miles' slowly.

There was mortification, an abundance of humiliation, but also a startling amount of gall. “I would!”

“People kept walking in and out of my place all day long and I needed a moment to myself. You weren't here,” justified Alex, defiant, “and I put a towel underneath. I was very sanitary!”

“You seriously drove all the way from your place to mine, to wank? Fucking lock yourself into your bathroom next time and do it at home!” He waved a hand at his bed. “'s fucking insane! You even put on a record?” Once more, Miles gawked at him, flummoxed. “Let me get this straight, you were so bloody desperate to get off that you had to come here but you still needed _Bowie_ to get into the mood?”

Alex averted his eyes, chafing, “Like a good song when I do it.”

Stealing a glimpse into his bedroom, Miles caught sight of something and sidestepped Alex's peevish figure. “Is that…” He walked toward the bed, toward what lay on the ground.

In the blink of an eye, Alex rounded him, crouched down, and picked it up, hiding it inside the sheet. “Nothing!”

“Oh no,” protested Miles, yanking on the sheet. “I know what that was!”

“Let go,” warned Alex.

“You stole an egg!”

“Did not!”

“I saw you grab it!”

Alex jumped out of his reach. “It was _my_ egg.”

“ _Yours_ —” Miles gasped. “You got yourself an egg? That's what the sex shop trip was about?”

“Amazon was unable to deliver in a reasonable timeframe. And you wouldn't share!”

“Of course not!”

“You're such a hogger! You always keep the good shit for yourself!”

“Oh, that's low. The eggs were a gift!”

“And you got six. Could have spared one!”

“Most certainly not.” He planned on using all of them. “What's your fucking problem! You got your own six-pack now, don't you?”

“Twelve,” volleyed Alex.

“Needy much?”

He grunted. “Had to buy twelve. Sex-shop lady was mean. At least it was worth it.”

Miles forgot about Alex's transgression. “Yeah?” A slow smile tugged on the corner of his lip. There was a fellow egg connoisseur, somebody to exchange opinions with. “Which one did you use?”

Alex smirked. “The crater.” One sly brow crawled up. “You?”

“The clicker,” admitted Miles, adding, “'twas good. Yours?”

A cheeky nod. “Used only one yet?”

“You used more?”

“An egg and a half. One I tossed before I could enjoy it. Taylor barged in.”

“Why toss it?” wondered Miles. “She didn't want to play?”

Alex shrugged. “She got mad on arrival. That killed the mood.”

“But you'd finished by the time I'd…”

“Barged in?” A curt nod.

“Good.” He cringed, restating that. “I mean, I'd hate for you to lose another egg without getting _…off_.”

“Still got ten left.”

There they stood, then. In the front of Miles' bed, one wrapped into a sheet, one awkwardly shifting on his feet.

Alex rubbed his nape. “Gonna put the towel into the laundry and…uh…you know…”

“Put your pants back on?”

“That, too,” said Alex, a blush on his cheeks.

“I'll head into the kitchen. Want anything to drink?”

“Could really use something strong!”

“Me, too!” That was some night so far! He hurried out. Desperate for a moment to gather his wits.

Miles' eyes were aimed directly at the tv in front of him and even though he couldn't see it, he still felt it. That curious stare, that probing mien Alex lobbed his way. It was late into the night but for some reason neither made an attempt to go to bed or leave. For two hours now, they sat on the couch, watching some boring old movie they'd both seen at least two or three times already. “Just ask,” he sighed. “I know you got a question on your mind.”

Tapping his index fingers against another, focusing on that, Alex spoke quietly when asking, “have you ever, like, with something other than an egg?”

He was tempted to kill the tv and lean back, fully direct his attention at Alex, and dive into this topic. But it was as far removed from the typical best-mates conversation as it was spell-binding. Therefore, he kept watching. Or, rather, pretended to, whilst moving his head from side to side. From the corner of his eyes, he snuck a glance at him. “You?”

“Nope.”

Half a minute ticked by in silence. “I barely got any sleep last night, but I'm not the least bit tired. Strange, right?” Alex pulled his legs up and crossed them, settling in.

It did the strangest thing to Miles' chest. Tightened it, in a sense. He let his friend's words echo in his head. It was strange. He wasn't tired, either. If anything, he was alert. This was one of those nights when you couldn't say why or what it was, precisely, but you just knew that something was going to happen. The air was dense with foreboding. Did Alex feel it, too?

“So,” joked his mate, “did Matt talk you into nipple clamps?”

Laughter bubbled from Miles and with it, tension fell from his shoulders. He nestled further into the couch. “Not into that. I'm all about experimenting, but I like my afterglow to be serene, not painful.”

Alex chuckled. “Agree.”

“I will confess I…” Miles stopped as it occurred to him what he'd been about to say. “…er…” It struck him that he and Alex had never discussed sex before. He'd had casual conversations about it with other people. The usual throwaway talks. Exciting places one might have done it. New positions. A mate once bragged about having done a threesome. It honestly wasn't that big a deal anymore. He'd been offered, too. He preferred the two-people kind of sex.

“Confess what?” Alex had dropped his hands, paying undivided attention to him.

“Kinda like it…” mumbled Miles, “…you know…” He gulped. There it was again, that heat that he'd suffered under the night of his birthday. It was worse now than it had been then. “A bit rough. Like, not bad rough. Just…when it's really passionate.”

“Pulling on hair,” supplied Alex.

Miles nodded. Drank some. His glass was empty. Damnit. Alex's was, too. “More?”

“Yeah.”

#Alex

“You already decided which one you're gonna use next?” With one arm curled around Miles' middle from behind, Alex, wobbly and wasted out of his mind, stumbled after his friend and laughed as Miles pulled his drawer open. “You hide 'em?”

“From you,” giggled Miles, throwing his head back.

It sagged against Alex's shoulder and he welcomed it, tilted his cheek, touching it to Miles'. His free arm darted around him, into the drawer. “Which egg is it gonna be?”

Miles' hand joined Alex's in the drawer, fishing around for the one in question. “The Misty.”

“Good choice!” He'd pondered using that one first. Would it be wrong to lick Miles' jaw, he asked himself, tempted to do it. It was there, right there by his mouth, daring him into madness. Alex pushed up against Miles' back. Teeth drilled into his lip to keep his tongue locked inside.

In his clasp, Miles arched against him. “Feels like you need one.” As far from sober as Alex was, he wiggled his ass.

“Wanna use one,” exhaled Alex, growing hard against him.

Eyes shut, blindly grabbing one, Miles handed him an egg. “Do it.”

Alex whimpered, his cock straining inside his pants. “Right now?” That was insane. They didn't do that. They were friends. Then again, argued his loopy brain, they were friends. They did everything together. Why not do this together? Far more depraved than he'd always considered himself to be, he nipped on Miles' lobe and grinned. “Will you watch me use it?”

“I'll help you use it,” rasped Miles.

“Yes…”

Miles hovered above him, the lubed-up egg in his hand, propping himself up on his free arm. Beneath, Alex was, stretched out on the mattress, feet dangling off, pants bunched around them. “Looks so big,” marveled Miles, staring at Alex's hard cock. “'n pretty.”

Laughing, Alex looked down at himself. “Never been told that before.” If had a lifetime to explain how they'd ended up on this bed, it wouldn't be enough. At first, there'd been the shock at Miles' offer, then the shock at his own response, then the bone-rattling wave of arousal knocking him out when Miles had spun around in his arms and guiding him to the mattress. Between all of that, he was sure, there had to have been some conscious decision-making. He couldn't remember, though. His head was too stimulated to function properly.

“Shame.” Miles' face colored with hunger. “Can I touch it?”

“Fuck, yes!”

The egg slipped from his fingers. Lube wet the mattress. Miles didn't pay attention. Instead, his fingertips lightly brushed the hyper-sensitive skin of Alex's shaft.

He shuddered everywhere.

“Feels like mine,” Miles told him, amazed. “Is it weird that I'm touching you?”

“No.” It should be! It felt right, though. Meant to be. “Do it again.”

This time, Miles' fingers wrapped around it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“The egg,” wailed Alex, slipping off the brink of sanity. “Now's a good time for it.” God knew how much longer he'd last.

Miles went to work, moved the egg into position, and took his damned time sliding it down the erection. “Feels funny doin' it to you instead of me.”

“Funny bad?”

“Funny good.” The silicone extended nearly all the way to the base. For a moment, Miles paused, allowed him to savor, then drew his hand back up. “Like that?”

“Yes! Keep going!”

He did. At first, he watched. Alex, too, watched how Miles' hand traveled to and from the tip of his cock, down and up again. Until watching became too much and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Against his throat, Miles' hot breath crashed. His nose dug into the curve of his jaw. And against his thigh, Alex felt him frotting off. It was the single hottest moment of his life. This was bad and taboo and a million things that friends didn't do, and yet it was so deliciously dirty and sexual. “Have to…” He was panting. Hard. “Have to kiss you…”

Miles kissed him. He practically ate his mouth, going all in and plundering it of its innocence. His kisses were wet and filthy, going straight to his nuts, tightening them. At some point, they'd have to discuss this night. It wasn't the kind of kiss he'd forget easily, of that Alex was dimly aware even as his thoughts were too jumbled to fully grasp the consequences. Not that he cared to think about them now. There was always tomorrow. Or the day after that.

Frantic, blind, Alex wedged his hand into Miles' pants, found his cock, and rubbed it. The least he could do! It felt so different from his own and yet, familiar. It was exciting. New.

Everything became a foggy blur of moans and headiness. Their two bodies bucked against one another. And then, like nails scraping over his skin, the orgasm raked through his body with wild energy.

Quivering above him was Miles, spilling into his pants and Alex's hand before collapsing on top of him.

“That was some fucking hand-job,” growled Miles into his neck, highlighting his appreciation with a teasing, little bite into Alex's neck.

“That was some expertly used egg,” remarked Alex, lips stretching far and wide. He was happy. Sex-happy.

“Wanna know a secret?” Miles shifted, whispering the words into his ear like a sultry caress. “Eggs weren't the only naughty thing I got.”

“No?” He'd just come, and already, his dick perked at the idea of more. This whole sex-toys thing was revealing itself to be a real turn-on for Alex. “What else?”

“In the bag, beneath the eggs, there was a glow-in-the-dark condom.” He kissed Alex's earlobe. “I want you to use it.”

His heart hammered. “You want me to…”

“Yes.” Miles leaned back, drunk but open eyes full of trust when they met Alex's. “Would you like to?”

Alex nodded, taken aback by his own eagerness. “Yes!” His attraction for Miles wasn't a new thing. It had lurked in the shadows for a while, already. Suddenly, it stepped into the sun and rose to its full size. He ought to pay some thought to it. Properly dissect it, make sense of it. For the moment, he put that on hold. He could waste time on the thinking-part of this development on days when Miles wasn't around.

Now, here in bed, horny and eager, he had different goals.

Miles smiled.

He did, too. Alex kicked off his pants. “But first, kiss me again…”

The End.


End file.
